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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053696">'tis the damn season</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlurglesmurfKlaine/pseuds/BlurglesmurfKlaine'>BlurglesmurfKlaine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Christmas fic, Evermore - Freeform, FWB, Friends With Benefits, Humor, M/M, Sort Of, famous!blaine, hoem for the holidays, they have history i guess, writer!Blaine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:16:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,733</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlurglesmurfKlaine/pseuds/BlurglesmurfKlaine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot can change in five years. After coming home for the holidays for the first time since then, Kurt realizes that doesn’t include the way he feels about Blaine. Even though Blaine lives in New York. And has a boyfriend. </p><p>A night at Rachel’s house leads to decisions they both may regret by the end of their holiday break, but… ‘tis the damn season.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: I come back stronger than a nineties trend babey!!! Am i completely ignoring every other wip to focus on this bc im obsessed with taylor swift? MAYBE?? But i seriously couldn’t get this out of my mind SO HERE WE GO! Hope y’all like it! :D</p><p>I have no idea how long this is going to be, and im really just fucking winging it and flying blind bc this story highkey has a mind of its own, but yolo! rating is T for now, might be M??? I honestly don't fucking know lmao</p><p>Enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After five years in LA, December in Lima is so much colder than Kurt remembers, in every conceivable way. The breath he’s been holding finally expels itself from his lungs, seemingly of its own accord, and he realizes he can’t remember the last time he was able to see his breath.</p><p>If his hands are shaking, it can be attributed to the freezing cold beating on the back of his coat as he waits for Rachel to open the door, and not the words she texted him earlier that day before inviting him to the Rachel Berry Nondenominational Holiday Extravaganza/Glee-Union.</p><p>
  <em> Blaine will be there. </em>
</p><p>The words bounce around his mind like they’re trapped in an echo chamber, growing louder and stronger with each reverberation, slicing open that old wound Kurt swears has already scarred over.</p><p>Much to his annoyance, everyone at Kurt’s work lost their goddamn minds when <em> the </em>Blaine Anderson released his latest novel, Evermore. When prompted to give his opinion, Kurt would simply give a wry smile and say he hasn’t had much time for reading lately.</p><p>After all, it was much easier than trying to nuance the truth, and much more concise than saying, “We actually used to be best friends, but we haven’t spoken in five years so I feel a little weird reading his books.”</p><p>Five years. </p><p>The somber realization sits heavy on Kurt’s chest, the pressure nearly springing tears to his eyes before he swallows them down. Not here. Definitely not now. </p><p>He does wonder, however, how wrong things had to have gone for them to end up here. How does someone go from being your go-to confidant, your ride or die, your best fucking friend, to only a memory you can’t hold on to tightly enough?</p><p>His thoughts are broken by the sound of the front door unlactching, revealing Rachel—clad in an outfit Kurt actually approves of for once. Or one that he at least tolerates.</p><p>When she throws her arm out in greeting and lets out a, ‘Kurt! You made it,” that nearly makes him shudder more than the blistering cold, it’s obvious she’s already had more than a few drinks tonight. LIkely Puckerman’s doing, if Kurt remembers his friends at all.</p><p>Obnoxiousness aside, Kurt really is genuinely happy to see her, and manages a smile as she reels him in for a hug that’s comfortingly warm against the winter air. </p><p>“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”</p><p>“Well, we weren’t sure, considering it’s already ten.” She chastises him, pulling him through the threshold and into the inviting heat of her home. “Everyone else got here hours ago!”</p><p>He hums thoughtfully. “And I assume they’ve been drinking since then as well?” he teases as they head down the stairs towards the basement. Kurt tries not to think about the last time he was in this basement. He’s never been quite able to dull the ache instilled in him all those years ago, but he’s been able to silence it long enough to pretend it still doesn’t throb with pain every now and again.</p><p>Rachel rolls her eyes. “Maybe. Maybe you’re being a stick in the mud.”</p><p>“Me?” He raises his eyebrows inquisitively at her. “Need I remind you of all the convincing it took to let us drink in here the first time?”</p><p>“People change,” she says dismissively, as if this should erase the near breakdown she had when Santana dares bring <em> wine coolers </em>to a celebratory get together after their first Sectionals win.</p><p>And as if on fucking cue, Kurt plops down from the last step onto the basement floor, and Blaine comes into view. </p><p><em> Santa Tell Me </em>accompanies him and Mercedes as they nonsensically move their bodies in time to the song. Kurt swallows. He can’t tell if Baline’s hair is longer now, or if Quinn—his dual best friend (Kurt knows she’s not his replacement, but convincing his heart of the same is a trying task) and publicist—has finally managed to entice him into using less than a boatload of gel on it. </p><p>His eyes crinkle at the sides when he smiles as he sings along, just like Kurt remembers. He still has that same sunshine smile plastered on. He still has Kurt’s heart in the palm of his hand.</p><p>If Blaine is just a stranger now, why does he seem so god damned familiar? If he’s just a ghost from Kurt’s past, why can’t he help but feel the pull of the future every time he looks at him? </p><p>Another deep breath and Kurt reminds himself that he’s never really been the best at letting go.</p><p>It’s nothing but nostalgia taunting him.</p><p>“Kurt!” </p><p>His heart leaps at the sound of his old friend calling out his name, like a melody that’s only on key coming from Blaine’s mouth.</p><p>“Blaine,” he manages, willing his voice to not sound so damn breathless.</p><p>“I—hi,” is apparently the only thing Blaine can say to Kurt’s face after all their time apart.</p><p>Kurt forces out a wry smile. </p><p>He knows he shouldn’t be upset with Blaine. He didn’t even know Kurt was in love with him.</p><p>All the logic in the world can’t stop that all too familiar aching bitterness from rushing back in. </p><p>Maybe the reason their friendship fell apart is himself. Kurt was the one who started distancing himself once Blaine and Jeremiah started dating, even if it was just a last ditch effort to keep his sanity in-tact.</p><p>All he wanted was Blaine, and instead he got to watch him fall in love with someone else. And after five years—even though Blaine is dating some B-list actor in New York, even though Kurt has a job he loves in LA—it still hurts. </p><p>“Hey,” Kurt finally replies, and between his words and the howling wind outside, he’s not sure which is colder. </p><p>A part of him feels guilty for it, but an even louder part of him is reminding him that he hasn’t even completely healed from the first blow, and letting those walls down would just be another opportunity to get hurt.</p><p>“I um, I’ve just been hanging with Mercedes and Quinn and the rest of the gang, hoping you’d show up.”</p><p>Kurt bites back the words, <em> If I wanted to know, I would have asked. </em>Before deciding that would be too far.</p><p>So badly, he wants to push Blaine away. He doesn’t want to let him get close enough to send Kurt slipping down this treacherous slope of foolish hopefulness. </p><p>For years, Kurt had been at peace, and all it took was one conversation with Blaine to reignite the battle raging within him—the way he simultaneously wants to never speak to Blaine again, yet wants to pull him into one of those hugs that warms you to the core and confess everything he never got the chance to.</p><p>Blaine slips his phone out of his pocket and glances at the screen, pursing his lips. The motion is enough to keep Kurt from being consumed by his thoughts. Blaine pockets his phone once more, and of course. That’s the boyfriend Kurt’s seen on magazine covers and on news tweets.</p><p>“How-how have you been?” Blaine asks cautiously, as if he is aware of the turmoil within Kurt. It used to be comforting how well Baline could see right through him, but now it’s unnerving.</p><p>“I’ve been good,” he replies shortly.</p><p>Another awkward silence. As if they’ve just met. As if they weren't best friends for six years.</p><p>After a few seconds, Blaine finally lets out a desperate sigh. “Kurt, did I… Did I do something to upset you?”</p><p>Well. Kurt certainly wasn’t expecting that.</p><p>“I—sorry, I know that was blunt, but… You never responded to my letters that first Christmas you didn’t come home.” </p><p>Blaine’s amber eyes are shining up at him, and Kurt wants to pull his hair out. Blaine doesn’t even know he’s done anything wrong. And he hasn’t—he really, truly hasn’t. But that couldn’t stop Kurt from hurting.</p><p>Still, from Blaine’s end, one of his best friends just faded out of his life, and for that, Kurt feels like a total jerk. </p><p>“I—no, we just… Life got busy. We live so far apart. It’s not anything you did, really.” </p><p>It’s a bastardous lie, but the truth is more pathetic than Kurt would like to admit.</p><p>No. He tried being honest once, and all it earned him was a broken heart.</p><p>But then Blaine smiles, and <em> god, </em> Kurt missed that smile.</p><p>“How long are you in town?” Blaine asks, his grin too genuine and bright to be legal. “If you’re not leaving anytime soon, we should definitely grab dinner. You know, just for old time’s sake.”</p><p>Kurt can’t help but chuckle at Blaine’s earnest charm. “I have to be back in the office by the second, so my flight’s booked for January first.”</p><p>“Ah, starting the new year off by running from your resolutions?” Kurt doesn’t want to smile at the stupid joke, but he does. “That’s sort of perfect, though,” Blaine continues. “I’ve got this promotional press conference on the second.”</p><p>“For what?” Kurt asks, surprised and not at himself for his genuine interest. </p><p>Blaine hesitates for a moment. “I uh, this isn’t public information yet, but you have special privileges.” And there Blaine goes again, making Kurt feel less than insignificant as if he has any right to. “But they’re turning one of my books into a movie! My um, boyfriend might even star in it.”</p><p>The mention of Blaine’s boyfriend is like a knife twisting in Kurt’s side, but he’s always been excellent at hiding his pain. “Blaine, I—that’s amazing.”</p><p> As if the grim reminder that Blaine was never his to lose in the first place wasn’t enough, a firm hand pats Kurt’ on the back, nearly knocking him over.</p><p>“Blaine, stop flirting with Hummel and come join the circle! We’re going to play Never Have I Ever,” Puck demands. </p><p>The reminder of all the jokes their friends were too comfortable making in high school is one of the last things Kurt needed, but as figures begin to appear from behind Puck, it softens the blow.</p><p>“And I’m making you a drink. I’m not letting your ass be the only sober one in this house. That’s lame as shit,” Puck adds, reeling him in for a hug.</p><p>“Okay, but just a pour!” Kurt cautions him before returning the hug then waving him off. “And not a <em> you </em>pour! A regular pour.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”</p><p>“Well nice of you to finally greet us,” Finn says, as Kurt and Blaine approach the circle of New Directions gathered around the fireplace.. </p><p>“I already said hi to you at home,” Kurt chuckles. </p><p>“And yet, you still manage to be the last one to arrive.”</p><p>“Call it fashionably late.”</p><p>“Let’s get on with it!” Santana calls from where she’s reclaimed her seat on one of the couches, circling a finger at each of them. “I’m ready to expose you bitches.”</p><p>“Calm down, Satan,” Quinn says with a roll of her eyes.</p><p>“Okay, okay!” Blaine says in an attempt to quiet everyone down. He turns to face Kurt with a smile. “You ready?”</p><p>Now isn’t that just the million dollar question. The hurt Kurt has no right to feel still lurks deceivingly placid beneath the surface of his amiable face. </p><p>It’s eight days. Eight days until he can run back to LA, far, far away from everything he never stopped feeling for Blaine. </p><p>Eight days of pretending like nothing has changed. </p><p>He can do that.</p><p>“As I’ll ever be.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Of all the cheesy, sweeping, romantic entrances and meet-cutes Blaine has written over the past five years, nothing quite compares to meeting Kurt’s eyes as he steps down from the final steps of the staircase and shakes off the outdoors. </p><p>It’s a strange feeling, having the awkwardness of their dissipated friendship surround them while his chest simultaneously swells and soars at just the sight of Kurt. </p><p>Gratitude sweeps into his entire body when he feels Kurt’s icy walls start to defrost once again, just like he once knew, and for a moment, Blaine forgets that they haven’t spoken in five years, and not even the obnoxiously fake “goodnight!” text he gets from Sebastian—as if he has to put on a show for the FBI agents who surveil their phones, too—can break him out of his happiness of having Kurt in his life again..</p><p>And it’s no one’s fault—not really. After Jerehmiah, things never were quite the same between them.  </p><p>A few rounds into never have I ever, and he’s feeling loose and warm and for the first time in a long time, comfortable. There’s a slight buzzing in his stomach hinting that this feeling can’t entirely be attributed to the wine.</p><p>Of course, part of it is the alcohol. But some of it—most of it, really—is Kurt.</p><p>They’re at the point in the game where the phrases have gone from general statements to “Never have I ever been on a train,” to oddly specific callouts like “Never have I ever done shrooms and skinny dipped in my uncle’s pool at three am,” leading everyone to gasp when Tina abashedly takes a sip from her drink.</p><p>She glares at Mike, who is apparently in it to win it. “Well, never have I ever written fanfiction.”</p><p>Everyone  is weirdly delightedly surprised when Blaine, as well as Mike and Sam drink. </p><p>“The professional writer writes fanfiction?” Finn asks with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“Hey now,” Blaine defends, involuntary leaning his head and torso back towards Kurt’s chest. The warmth of the contact sends goosebumps rippling down his spine. “Don’t knock it. There’s some really talented writers out there! Besides, I don’t really write it anymore.”</p><p>Kurt leans into Blaine’s touch, hooking his chin over his shoulder and opening his legs so that he’s practically straddling Blaine. He ever so slightly pushes his weight back into Kurt to let him know it’s a welcome change.</p><p>It’s a tightrope fine line they are walking, but in all honesty, Blaine wouldn’t mind falling.</p><p>Who’s to say he hasn’t already.</p><p>“Ah, you use all your creative energy for work now,” Kurt says. His breath skips across Blaine’s ear, hot and damp in the best way possible, and the everpresent desire he’s never been able to smother out is only further agitated.</p><p>“That’s uh, that’s the gist of it,” Blaine stammers out. He should be able to control himself. He and Kurt used to sit like this, slotted between one another, all the damn time. The only difference is now Blaine isn’t an idiot now. He thinks.</p><p>“Speaking of your work, hobbit,” Santana purrs with a cunning smirk. </p><p>The entire room braces themselves, knowing damn well that Santana is there for one thing and one thing only: to raise absolute hell.</p><p>“Never have I ever based one of my characters off of someone in this room.”</p><p>His entire body flushes in a bright heat out of embarrassment as he slowly takes a drink from his beverage. </p><p>The room <em> explodes. </em></p><p>“What!?”</p><p>“And you didn’t tell me?”</p><p>“Which book?”</p><p>“Who is it?”</p><p>Everyone grows silent after Kurt asks that final question.</p><p>Santana scoffs. “It’s Christmas Eve eve, Kurt. Shouldn’t your psychic elf powers be activated?”</p><p>“Santana, please,” Blaine begs, but between the drinks and being put on the spot, his face is too hot and his mind is too muddled to say anything else to stop her.</p><p>“You didn’t notice some similarities between the main character from Evermore and yourself, porcelain?”</p><p>Now, it’s Kurt's turn to look a little sheepish, though Blaine can’t exactly tell why. </p><p>“I uh, can’t say that I have.”</p><p>By now, everyone's a little too buzzed to stay focused on the game at hand</p><p>“I think it’s about time for me to go home,” Blaine admits and shuffles up from his place between Kurt’s outstretched legs, feeling unnervingly cold where Kurt’s body had just been. </p><p>Kurt looks up at him, the flush on his cheeks that wasn’t there when he arrived letting Blaine know he’s had a few to drink. “So soon?” he pouts.</p><p>Blaine chuckles. “It’s nearly midnight,” he points out.</p><p>“At least let me walk you out,” Kurt insists. “It’s cold out.”</p><p>“Baby It’s Cold Outside?” Blaine teases as Kurt gets up from his seat.</p><p>“Ah yes,” Kurt hums happily, leading Blaine up the staircase. “Our first duet.”</p><p>“The New Direction Christmas Special that never was.” </p><p>“Missed opportunity.” </p><p><em> That seems to be the theme here, doesn’t it, </em>Blaine doesn’t say. He doesn’t have to. </p><p>After a few steps in silence, Kurt sighs. “It’s weird how after all this time, we kind of just slip back into one another, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” Blaine admits as they cross the threshold onto the Berrys’ front porch. </p><p>Kurt’s eyes dart up at the archway that covers them, and Blaine follows his gaze, the crunching of snow beneath tires the only indication that his Lyft has arrived. “Mistletoe,” Kurt says. Stating the obvious shouldn’t be such an act of bravery, but with them, it is. </p><p>Between the two of them, Kurt’s always been the more courageous one. Blaine is afraid. Of so much and so many things. </p><p>He’s just gotten Kurt back in his life, despite not really knowing why he lost him in the first place. A few moments of stupid, unwise bravery could wreck that all again. Still, a part of his judgement has dissolved in whatever heady cocktail Puck served them that night.</p><p>Slowly, Blaine leans forward, glancing at Kurt’s lips and watching the other man’s breath hitch in gentle surprise. Kurt’s eyelids flutter shut, but Blaine can’t bring himself to close the distance between their lips. He climbs up all the way to the top of the mountain, but can’t take that last step—the one he wants to, but could never take back.</p><p>Instead, he presses his mouth to Kurt’s cheek in a quick, chaste moment, not meeting his eyes when he pulls away—not wanting to see the disappointment in them.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Kurt,” he mutters before trekking through the newly fallen snow towards the car, already berating himself for his cowardice.</p><p>No. This is for the best. This is the right decision. Kurt lives all the way in LA, and he lives in New York, and it doesn’t matter if Kurt’s the only one who knows which smiles of his are a facade, or the only person who’s <em> ever </em>felt like home to him— </p><p>“Blaine, wait!” There’s a hand on his shoulder, just before he reaches out for the car door handle, spinning him around until he’s face to face with Kurt’s blue eyes, unusually dark in the low lighting of the moon.</p><p>And then Kurt’s lips are on his, slightly chapped from the weather, but gliding wondrously along Blaine’s own and it’s everything he ever dreamed it would be.</p><p>As if his hands have a mind of their own, Blaine digs one into Kurt’s unbelievably soft hair and tugs, wanting nothing but for Kurt to pull Blaine closer, Kurt to kiss him harder—wanting nothing but Kurt, Kurt, <em> Kurt. </em></p><p>Blaine really shouldn’t be surprised when Kurt’s the one to push his tongue into Blaine’s mouth and he can’t help but let out a lascivious moan into Kurt’s. His bones feel too weak, too desire driven to hold him up. His head has gone dizzy and he feels almost ethereal, on another plane of existence, but as long as he’s in Kurt’s arms, he’ll push through.</p><p>After what could be mere seconds or entire days, they finally pull apart, but still rest their foreheads together, as if they can’t stand to be apart just yet. “Where are you staying?” Kurt mumbles.</p><p>“My parents' house,” Blaine pants.</p><p>“Are they—”</p><p>“You know they never are. Left the keys for me to use. Do you want—”</p><p>“Yeah,” Kurt replies breathlessly, kissing Blaine senseless once more.</p><p>Blaine can’t help the involuntary roll of his hips and groan that escapes his mouth when Kurt presses his body flush against his. “Are you sure?” he manages.</p><p>Kurt takes the time to pull away and look Blaine in the eyes this time. “‘Tis the damn season.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: HELLO FOLKWHORES AND FIC READERS ALIKE I AM BACK!!</p><p>here's part two! kind of hoping to update a bit more frequently, but i had family in town, hence the ungodly hour (i'll shut up it's 7pm) </p><p>Shoutout to Aisha for bullying me into updating jahsgdkajs THANK U YOUR SUPPORT MEANS EVERYTHING!!! and thanks to Rachael and Brooke for helping me out with grammar because writing is hard lmao</p><p>hope yall enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Ghosts of Christmas Past</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kurt!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The moment he sets foot on the carpet of Rachel’s basement, Blaine’s arms surround Kurt in a tight greeting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kurt can’t help but smile—he never can, not with Blaine—as he joyfully returns the hug. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was beginning to worry you’d gotten stuck in the snow or something,” Blaine chastises playfully. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Kurt chuckles. “Just call me fashionably late.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Late? Check. Fashionable?” Blaine’s eyes graze up and down Kurt’s body, and he hopes that if he has to fight the flush rushing to his cheeks, he can at least blame it on the weather. “Check.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If only I could say the same for you,” Kurt teases as he brushes past Blaine, earning a laugh that gleams almost as bright as the twinkling lights Rachel has set up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not even true—Blaine looks downright criminal in his dark grey pea coat that hugs his waist in all the right places and skinny jeans that accentuate the muscles of his legs and curve of his ass perfectly. But making a joke and deflecting the conversation that would follow is all much easier than giving any indication of Kurt’s feelings. And certainly much safer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, you know you love me,” Blaine teases back, and Kurt can’t help the swooping sensation that comes fluttering in his stomach. He pushes it down, ignores it, though. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kurt doesn’t really know how it happened, in all honesty. There was no defining moment, or spark of inspiration, or single moment in time that changed his perspective. Realizing he was in love with Blaine was as gradual as the summer heat giving way to winter’s chill. One day, Kurt simply recognized the feeling that had been blooming inside him—the way he couldn’t help his face lighting up like Christmas whenever he found Blaine waiting to walk with him to his next class, the butterflies in his stomach whenever he’d surprise Blaine with coffee just to see that priceless smile of his, the warmth and familiarity of someone who was always supposed to be in Kurt’s life—was a bit more than friendship.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That had been a few months after they’d met, back in freshman year McKinley. Of all the joys being in glee club had brought Kurt, Blaine was definitely his favorite.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But Kurt never said anything, and he never will. Why would he, some six odd years later, in their second year (and hopefully last, if Kurt can transfer out to another school with a decent fashion merchandising program) at Allen County Community College? Surely, if Blaine had even the smallest inkling of reciprocation, Kurt would have known. Or maybe Blaine would have said something, anything, to clue him in. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blaine moves to check his phone, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips, and the motion is enough to break Kurt free from his thoughts.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At Kurt’s curious glance, Blaine offers up an explanation and a meek shrug. “It’s um. It’s Jeremiah. That guy from my business management class I've been telling you about.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh,” Kurt tries not to sound as disappointed as he feels. “Things getting pretty serious between you two?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not really. We’ve grabbed coffee a few times. He’s sweet, but I’m just not completely sure.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The look on Blaine’s face isn’t one Kurt can read. Blaine opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, Puck shouts something about playing Never Have I Ever and corrals all the New Directions to the center of the room.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kurt should put a pin in the conversation he’s having with Blaine about this Jeremiah character. But in all honesty, he’s relieved Puck came and swept them away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t think he can stand to listen to another second of it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Blaine awakes in the morning, the first thing he should be feeling is panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s pretty hard to conjure up, though, when Kurt’s arm is draped across his naked torso, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. In this moment, truly all he can feel is a surge of happiness—something he’s been missing for quite a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt’s head rests delicately on the pillow—a deceptive contrast to the storms he knows Kurt can both summon and weather—and Blaine watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest that comes with his breath, feeling the steady rhythm of his sleep tug at something deep within him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fluttering of eyelashes, a slightly creased brow, and a moment later, Kurt’s blue eyes are open, reflecting the pale grey light of the sky leaking from the blinds. He gives a hazy smile that makes Blaine’s heart skip a beat, as much as he hates to admit he’s becoming a cliche he so often avoids writing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, gorgeous,” Blaine mumbles softly, unable to help but reach out and sweep a thumb over Kurt’s bare shoulder. He’s never called anyone that before, but until now, he doesn’t think he’s ever come across a sight that deserves it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if Blaine’s voice is a sign that this isn’t a dream, the focus rushes back into Kurt’s eyes, and surprise turns to horror turns to dread in the blink of an eye. When Kurt withdraws from his touch, mouth agape as he pulls the sheets over his chest, Blaine hopes his face doesn’t communicate the shattering disappointment ripping through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kurt?” Blaine questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, the only response he gets is Kurt hiding himself under the covers. “Oh god,” he mumbles. “Did we—” he peers under the covers, as if to check he’s actually unclothed underneath. “Oh god, oh god, oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> sounds familiar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If looks could kill, Blaine would certainly not be breathing. He throws his hands up in surrender as Kurt relents and buries his head in his hands, shaking it vigorously. Blaine is trying so, so hard to not take it personally, but he never imagined Kurt would have this type of regret after a night like theirs. Especially considering their history. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe their history is exactly the problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go,” Kurt suddenly says, frantic. He moves to throw the sheets off himself before freezing. Then, he glares at Blaine expectantly, leaving him staring dumbly back. “Blaine…” Kurt whines, cheeks burning red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>staring. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m naked!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine shakes his head for clarity, the recent events catching up with him. “Well, I mean, it’s nothing I haven’t seen, considering—” he gestures vaguely, waiting for Kurt to get the hint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blaine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, why do you have to go in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, tell me you’re joking.” Blaine gives him a dumbfounded look that shows he’s not. Kurt scoffs. “You live in New York, I live in LA, we—we haven’t seen each other in years and I—” He cuts himself off. “Y-you have a boyfriend!” he points out, blood draining from his face. “Oh god, I’m going to go down in history as the homewrecker who broke up a New York Times best selling author’s relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a second. who has to know?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to tell Sebastian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things are…” Blaine hesitates. He wants so desperately to blurt out the truth, to tell Kurt that what he feels for Sebastian isn’t even half an iota of what he feels for Kurt—how could it be, when it’s a baseless PR relationship?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been Quinn’s idea, being the puppet master that she is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sebastian is a B-list actor from a relatively popular CW—adequately talented, but he’s got a cult following that’s notorious for blowing up anything he’s in. When Quinn ran into him at a mutual friend’s party, and Sebastian mentioned wanting to break into the film industry, of course she had to seize the opportunity by the balls when she saw it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smythe’s fans would all but flock to the bookstores to buy Blaine’s book the moment any connection to him was publicized, and when it’s eventually announced that he’ll be starring in the motion picture of it, it’s guaranteed to be a box office hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine trusts Kurt with his life, but he doesn’t trust half of the New Directions to not blab about it if they find out. Quinn would kill him if word got out it wasn’t a real relationship before the trailer for Evermore even came out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things are complicated with him,” Blaine finally finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Complicated?” Kurt looks very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>dubious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I know it’s not ideal, but—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not ideal?” Kurt scolds in utter disbelief. “Not ideal is when the kitchen forgets the side of raspberry sauce you ordered with your cheesecake. I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>deal </span>
  </em>
  <span>with not ideal. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The words find their way out of Blaine’s impulsive mouth before he can stop them. “What if it’s just for the holidays?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn’t quite sure what compels him to say that. All he knows is Kurt is panicking, and Blaine doesn’t want this—whatever it may be—to end. If he lets Kurt go again, things will get weird between them, again. They’ll lose touch, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine doesn’t know if it’s something they could recover from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt breaks his silence, sits up a little taller on the bed, and Blaine feels like he can breathe again. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are we kidding, Kurt?” Blaine begins. “There’s always been this sort of—tense, unspoken </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>between us. And it finally reached a breaking point last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt ducks his chin and averts his eyes, cheeks flushing with shame. “I know,” he says, but Blaine can hear the undercurrent of the unspoken words beneath it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It shouldn’t have.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a dagger in his side, twisting and pulling at him with every tantalizing possibility of what they could be. Clearly, that isn't what Kurt wants. Yet, Blaine can’t seem to let Kurt go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this point, he’ll take all the scraps of Kurt he can get before they’re so cruelly ripped away from him by their circumstances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he’s fooling himself into believing they can come out the other side of this clusterfuck stronger and more together than they’ve ever been, but that’s a secret too precious to ever tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anything not to let Kurt slip beyond his reaches again. Even if it’s only for a few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine pauses for a moment to reorder his thoughts. “Give me until the New Year. Give </span>
  <em>
    <span>us </span>
  </em>
  <span>until the New Year. I’m telling you right now, if we leave it at that one night, I will not stop thinking about it. I’ll want more.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will always want more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt is silent once again, eyes fixed on the spot where the sheet is covering his legs. It’s strange, Blaine thinks, that between the two of them, Blaine is the writer, but Kurt is the more pensive one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine is impulsive, run by his emotions. It’s clear in his writing process. He writes down the first thing that comes to mind, even if it’s absolute nonsense, then goes back and edits, and edits, and edits, and edits, every line changing with the new perspective gained in each day lived. Meanwhile, Kurt sits and waits patiently, thinking, and thinking, and thinking until every single possibility, every single outcome, has run through his mind like a defective vinyl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kurt,” he says softly. Kurt’s blue eyes sharpen, but don’t move from where they are transfixed. “Come back to me,” he beckons, and Kurt finally lifts his head, hazel meeting azure in an electric deadlock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just until the New Year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief comes flooding into Blaine’s system, so overwhelming he could cry. This isn’t goodbye, not yet, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Blaine says, voice coming out only above a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to Blaine’s surprise, it doesn’t take much to get Kurt on board. “Okay. But I need to know exactly what ‘for the holidays’ means.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever we want it to. Whatever we need it to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So anything goes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything goes,” Blaine agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until the New Year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The New Year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question tugs painfully at Blaine’s heart. He hates the answer so, so much. “And then you can head back to LA. I’ll go back to New York. I think… I think it’ll be easier to move on—properly—once we’ve gotten this out of our systems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If a glimmer of hurt flits across Kurt’s eyes, Blaine is too busy keeping his hammering heart in check to notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Blaine prompts when Kurt maintains his trademark silence. Please say yes, he thinks, as if he wasn’t feeling pathetic enough already. “What do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits with bated breath for Kurt’s response, but when it finally comes, it brings a smile brighter than the lights on his front porch to Blaine’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we have a lot of catching up to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kurt is freaking the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet somehow, he’s the most at peace he’s felt in a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s weird. Really weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt is feeling a devastating mixture of emotions including confusion, guilt, and hurt. One look from Blaine’s earnest eyes, and all of that subsides for a blissful moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, as he watches Blaine scour the produce aisle at the local grocer for potatoes, he’s having another moment of peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turns out, Kurt actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>have to leave. He has to pick up a few things to prepare for Christmas Eve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shopping? On Christmas eve?” Blaine had teased. And then he’d kissed Kurt. He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissed </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Solid and sure and warm and every reason they shouldn’t be playing this game of house. Every reason this charade (because really, that’s what it is. That’s what Kurt has to remind himself it is to protect himself) is so dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oddly enough, that night five years ago at Rachel’s comes flooding into his memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never was sure what to make of The Note Blaine gave him. And he does believe it earns the capitalization, considering all the anguish it caused him. Everything would have been different—Kurt could have just pretended like nothing ever happened, wouldn’t have replayed the sequence of events from that night over and over in his mind like a filmscreen that freezes right before the main character gets killed off—if only Blaine hadn’t given him that damn Note.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if Kurt needed any more evidence of their ships-in-the-night-esque relationship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he has last night to add to that list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory of Blaine’s hot breath against his ear sends a chill down his spine, forcing him to swallow around his rapidly drying throat, pushing down the fresh memories. Calling it good sex would be a drastic understatement. It was great sex, but even that is besides the point. It was more like the final, crucial missing piece of a puzzle slotting into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not just his body or the physical, it’s his </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Blaine has always had this way of just breezily floating through life, come hell or high water, that Kurt has always envied—a way of bringing the sun trailing behind him as he enters every room, despite the eclipses he has to brave himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s his generosity, his authenticity—the way he loves openly and without limit. It’s the way he’s the only person who has always accepted Kurt for everything he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the kind of love that leaves a mark. Impossible to cover up and even harder to forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d almost admitted it this morning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And I… never stopped loving you. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe, just maybe, if Kurt plays his cards right, he won't have to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he sternly reminds himself. He’s fallen down this rabbit hole before—tripped down it, head over heels and broke every bone in his body on his way down, is more like it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re just something Blaine needs to get out of his system, like he said. And god knows you need to flush him out of yours.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think four pounds of potatoes is enough?” Blaine asks, throwing a pair of two-pound bags in the cart. “I think it’d be enough for most people, but we’ve all seen Finn eat, so I just want to be sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The duplicitous serenity returns to Kurt in the form of a laugh. “I told you, you don’t have to make anything for Christmas dinner. You know my family, they’re always just happy to have you. Besides, we still have a day left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt isn’t even sugar coating anything. This wouldn’t be the first Christmas they’ve spent together, considering Blaine’s parents’ all consuming work schedule. When Kurt texted his dad that Blaine would be spending Christmas with them, he’d gotten an enthusiastic, if confused response of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Glad to have him! So, you two talking again?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt didn’t have any earthly clue how to respond to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I want to, though,” Blaine replies, the gaze he’s giving Kurt too vulnerable for comfort. It’s filled with an adoration that makes his stomach churn as he comes to the nauseating realization that it’s a look he will have to learn to live without. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cheeks burning a shade of red that could give St. Nicholas himself a run for his money, Kurt tears his eyes away from Blaine’s. “What?” he asks, busying himself with organizing the groceries in the cart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. I just… want you to know that you’re still my best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The swell of his heart gives Kurt no choice but to meet Blaine’s gaze with an equally earnest one. “And you’re still mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Blaine reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand in his. The warmth is tragically familiar, instilling a sense of comfort in Kurt he knows he shouldn’t get used to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I want you to still be my best friend, after. No matter what happens. I-I don’t want to lose this again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt is so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad always warned him about making promises he can’t keep, but he can’t help himself as he reaches up and pulls Blaine’s lips to his, mumbling against his mouth, “I think I can do that.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: so a few things: first, this chapter's gonna be in two parts because I had only finished hald of it and it was already longer than both of the first parts??? so um. yeah there's that lmao</p><p>2, thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! They genuinely make me smile, and this story has sort of revived my love for writing recently, so it really means a lot! :)</p><p>C) this story is now rated M do not fucking look at me i do not wish to be percieved at this time thank you and goodnight and i apologize in advance</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Ghosts of Christmas Past</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Never have I ever boycotted the prom because hair gel was against the dress code.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blaine laughs and takes a sip of his drink, whatever ungodly concoction Santana served him flowing down his throat and settling heat in the pit of his stomach. “That was a low blow, Q,” he scolds, no actual heat behind his words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Quinn is halfway through her second year at Yale, and constantly bothers Blaine about wanting to read a manuscript he’s writing. He always turns her down, though. Writing is just a fun hobby for him—granted, one he can get very passionate about, but he isn’t quite sure he can make a career out of it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After a few drinks of—Jesus, is that tequila he tastes in there?—his beverage, though, Blaine finds himself entertaining the idea more and more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t plan on sticking around Allen County Community College for very much longer, and he knows Kurt doesn’t either. It’s been the subject of their conversations more and more frequently. Once they set off for New York and Kurt gets into NYU’s design program, and Blaine… figures out what the hell he’s going to do, Lima will be nothing more than a trip to make for Christmas and special birthdays.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please, stop attacking Blaine,” Kurt begs. At the sound of his voice, Blaine feels his muscles relax, body settling deeper against Kurt’s from where he’s pressed snugly against his chest as a smile appears on his face. “He’s the biggest lightweight here, and I don’t think I can quite stand yet </span>
  </em>
  <span>another </span>
  <em>
    <span>inebriated rendition of Teenage Dream.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blaine hums delightedly, but while the prospect of putting on a show is tantalizing to his ego, it’s not quite feasible for his unsteady legs. On the contrary, he is quite comfortable nestled as close to Kurt’s torso as he can be while they’re in this position. In fact, he could stay like this forever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It feels right. It feels safe, and effortless in a way Blaine’s never felt with someone else. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, it’s a difficult task, silencing the voice in his head saying he's never given anyone else a chance. Blaine isn't actively avoiding dating, but if he’s completely honest with himself, there hasn’t been something in him screaming that something vital is missing ever since he met Kurt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But it’s just friendship… isn’t it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely, he would know. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And he likes Jeremiah, he does. They talk about music, like some of the same shows, and the few times they’ve hung out they’ve certainly had a good time. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He gets the butterflies when Jeremiah smiles at him, likes the idea of going on a real and proper date with him, holding hands, and maybe even kissing him. It makes sense, but what Blaine quite can’t figure out is why Kurt is the first thought to cross his mind after every outing with Jeremiah. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Santana’s up next, and it’s clear she’s out for blood. “Since Brit is taking a potty break, never have I ever had feelings for someone in this room.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blaine—for the first time in a good while—doesn’t even think before tilting the contents of his cup back into his mouth. Only a sip was necessary to complete the game, but Blaine tends to treat drinking like a chore, a means to an end, and downs the rest of it as if to get it over with.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Half of the New Directions are too busy taking drinks for themselves and miss Blaine’s drink, but when he finally lowers his chin, Kurt is staring at him expectantly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who?” he asks simply, and oh shit. Blaine has his answer, doesn’t he?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blaine stares back at Kurt’s opal eyes, shining hopefully at him. The rest of the world fades away—every obnoxious hoot and scandalized gasp from their overbearing friend group, the music blasting from the speakers. It all falls quiet and insignificant. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And all Blaine’s alcohol soaked brain can muster up is a slurred, “I have to pee,” before scrambling up and bolting up the stairs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He frantically tries the doorknob for the bathroom, but only gets a surprised yelp and Brittany’s voice calling out that it’s busy, so he rushes to the first room with an unlocked door, just down the hallway. Based on the Holly Hobby-esque decor, he assumes it's Rachel’s and takes a rest in the bed, a wave of vertigo slamming into him. Apparently, all his racing heart is good for is distributing the alcohol in his blood faster.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blaine wishes he could slam his hand down on some sort of reset button. Anything to take back the admission he wasn’t ready to give—the one he wasn’t ready for Kurt to hear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He can’t just go back down those stairs and confess his undying love for his best friend, not when he doesn’t even know if that’s what it is.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jumbled thoughts bounce around his brain, wild and unbridled, letting him venture into the extreme of each option. What would happen if Kurt doesn’t feel the same. What might if Kurt does. He isn’t sure which one is scarier. Both run the risk of losing Kurt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But it’s out there in the open, now. Kurt isn’t stupid, and the rest of the New Directions are surely drawing their own conclusions aloud. As much as he just wishes things could never change, they just did. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He grabs some stationary from Rachel’s desk—she’s too busy drunkenly sitting in Finn’s lap, Blaine’s sure, to notice if anything is missing—and a pen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe it’s the air of Christmas spirit hanging around, maybe it’s the drinks (it’s definitely the drinks. Blaine doesn’t credit himself with being this bold without the assistance of alcohol), but Blaine takes a moment to steel himself, and writes down the words, “You  move me, Kurt,” on the paper.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not the pinnacle of romance. Nothing grand gesture-y about it. But what it is, plain and simple, is the truth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it weird that I’m excited to see your family again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Kurt lets out with a chuckle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just incredibly sweet, and I need you to stop before I fall even more in love with you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I think it’s just perfect enough for your brand of weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is kissing you before we go in on-brand enough? Or is that too weird for you?” Blaine asks coquettishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt wants to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is </span>
  </em>
  <span>all </span>
  <em>
    <span>too weird for me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But Blaine snakes an arm around his waist, presses his warm, now-slightly-familiar lips on his, and just like this morning Kurt is putty in his strong hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heartbeat gaining speed, Kurt cups Blaine’s face and pulls him closer, like it’ll never be enough. The heat trapped between their bodies begins to expand and Kurt is left with the utterly impossible choice of either breaking this kiss for air, or letting them suffocate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, Kurt thinks, is what forever is supposed to feel like.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then why does he only want you until the New Year?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The startling thought alone is what finally breaks Kurt free from his trance—free from this make-believe fairy tale that Blaine has enveloped him in—just in time to hear the front door unlatch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open, and before Carole’s thrilled salutations and open arms wrap around them, Kurt manages to catch the mild surprise on his dad’s face. He knows why it’s there, knows that his dad didn’t miss the way their bodies were flush against one another, the lingering hand Blaine hadn’t removed from Kurt’s waist quick enough, the flush on their cheeks that’s due to more than just a few moments out in the cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After hugs and greetings and “Merry Christmases” are exchanged, once they pass into the threshold, Kurt feels his dad’s raised eyebrow more than he sees it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to say hi to Finn,” Kurt manages through an uncomfortable smile, a secret plea to his dad, asking him to just let this go for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big lug’s been waiting for you all day,” Burt says, his undertone saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will, but we are so talking about this later. Also, I noticed you didn’t come home with your brother last night. And I’m going to hate the christmas gift you got me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so maybe Kurt is taking a few liberties with the subtexts of his father’s words, but he’s about eighty percent sure he’s got the gist of it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing Finn does is bolt up from the recliner he was sitting on and excitedly demand, “Did you get it?” forgoing greeting either him or Blaine altogether. If it were anyone else, it’d be rude, but Kurt knows his brother really is just </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got it,” Kurt announces, holding up one of the grocery bags from this morning, the one that contains all the ingredients necessary for his made-from-scratch hot chocolate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn brings a fist in towards himself in victory. “Yes!” With a big grin sprawled across his face, he makes his way across the living room and wraps Kurt in a hug. “Merry Christmas, Kurt.” Blaine is next in his train of affections. Finn reels him in. “Long time, no see, Blaine! Good to see ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you, too, Finn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn manages to steal Blaine away for a conversation about sports—which, you’d think would be off the table at an event as sacred as Christmas—and Kurt offers to start on the hot chocolate, which everyone excitedly agrees to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While the rest of his family all catches up in the living room, Kurt pulls out a large pot and starts mixing ingredients. The click of the gas stove as it lights is oddly comforting. It signifies the start of an age old routine, cooking with the ambiance of his family in the background. Something about keeping his body occupied frees his mind in a way that he can’t quite get it to any other way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kurt is pouring in the sugar (adding a tablespoon more than the recipe calls for to satiate Finn’s notorious sweet tooth), a voice from behind causes him to startle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you and Blaine talking again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt jolts, nearly dropping his measuring tool before turning around. “Jesus, dad!” he hisses. “You scared me half to death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll live,” Burt deadpans. “You gonna tell me what’s happening with you and Anderson, or am I gonna have to pry it out of him myself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I—dad, no. It… It’s complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I figured it might be, Blaine having that TV actor boyfriend of his and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wave of guilt that crashes into Kurt comes rushing up his throat, causing an all too familiar sting in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know abut Sebastian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course I do. Blaine’s like a third son to me. You think I don’t keep tabs on him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you disappointed in me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More worried about you than anything. I just wanna make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. I’m completely aware that the only heart in danger of breaking is my own.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And if I only have memories of these few days to hold on to for the rest of my life, it’ll be worth it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt looks past Burt’s shoulders, to where Blaine is charming the pants off of Carole with stories of life in the big apple, the way he does with every person he meets. A wonderful and terrible ache resounds in his chest. “Painfully so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>As per Hudson-Hummel tradition, hot chocolate has been served, lights (with the exception of the tree) have been shut off in order to accommodate the movie they watched before midnight. This year had been Finn’s turn to pick, so they all huddled on the couches that encircled the living area, covered in blankets and cuddled close together on the cushions as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gremlins </span>
  </em>
  <span>played.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The end of the movie, which signaled only five minutes until midnight, seemed to rejuvenate them all. One by one, Kurt, Finn, Carole, and Burt make their way to the tree and pick one gift to open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carole eagerly points to a small, hastily yet carefully decorated box sitting underneath the warm lights of the Christmas tree. “Blaine, sweetie, there’s a little something there for you as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Carole, you shouldn’t have!” Blaine says, with a smile so genuine and fond it makes Kurt’s heart melt even more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s from all of us,” she says, giving an offhand wave of her arm. It’s not, and Bline surely knows that, but says nothing about it, only gives a sheepish smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. I know everything was so last minute, I didn’t realize I’d even be coming until this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, honey, none of that matters. You’re like family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile tugs at Kurt's lips, and he can’t suppress the surge of affection that swells in his chest at the scene. The day Burt and Carole got married, Kurt felt another piece of the inevitable slot into place. Although his family feels complete, he can’t help but think Blaine fits in this perfect picture so, so beautifully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once presents have been distributed, Burt looks around to double check everyone has one while Finn greedily eyes the clock, as if willing it to turn its hands to midnight faster. The clock finally strikes midnight, and a spark of joy surges through Kurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, the holidays make him a little melancholy, but this season has proven to be anything but. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine opens Carole’s gift, which turns out to be a wonderfully soft red and beige scarf. Carole opens a necklace from Burt, and Burt rips open the new package of barbecue tools that Kurt got him (and he loves it). Finn is delighted when he opens the personalized Vic Firth American Classic 5B drumsticks Kurt ordered for him, with his initials burned into the wood, and Kurt chooses to open the gift Finn got him (a gift certificate to Breadstix Kurt already knows he’ll give away) so that Finn doesn’t feel left out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Genuine thank yous and Merry Christmases are exchanged in abundance before everyone decides there’s been enough excitement for the night. Burt and Carole are the first to retreat to their rooms, the former claiming he’s not as young as he used to be. Finn gives Kurt and Blaine each a hug before bidding his goodnight as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt leads Blaine up the stairs, coming to an abrupt halt in front of his old room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can um—I don’t know if you want,” he gestures awkwardly to the guest room, which is right next door. “We don’t have to sleep together—not! I didn’t mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleep </span>
  </em>
  <span>together, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even in the low light of the night, Kurt is calmed by the little smile he can see forming on Blain’s face. “Kurt. It’s okay. Whatever you want is fine. I just. Can you come here for a sec?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt eyes him suspiciously, but obliges anyway. Blaine takes Kurt's hands in his and tugs, drawing him close. Slowly, he slips something small and solid from his pocket into the palm of Kurt’s hands. Kurt looks down to see an opened deck of cards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” he questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant to give this to you that first year you were in LA. Took it with me from my house. It’s a deck of cards—fifty-two things I miss about you. One for each week of the year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt opens the deck and starts fanning them out to see each one has a small message scrawled on it. Tears well up in his eyes as he scans the messages, each of varying length.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The way your eyes light up when you laugh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How you never miss an opportunity to insert a “Pretty in Pink” reference.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your beautiful voice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your everything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You n—I never got this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine shrugs, a little meekly. “Sometimes you burn letters you have every intention of sending,” he mumbles under his breath. Kurt quirks an eyebrow, unsure what that means. At his look of confusion, Blaine shakes his head. “Sorry, that’s uh, it’s from—nevermind. Doesn’t matter. I never sent it because we had drifted. It was the first time since we met that we were apart for so long. The messages between us started coming fewer and further in between, and I—I could never really shake the feeling that I’d done something wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I uhm,” Kurt can feel Blaine’s hands shaking in his as he gently runs a thumb over the back of Kurt’s hand. “Losing you felt like losing a part of myself. I felt like I’d forgotten how to smile, how to laugh. Waking up every day was just a struggle to remember how to enjoy life without you in it. Everything was just. Dull. And knowing exactly what I was missing just made it all the more difficult. I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear from me. Or if you’d respond. But… It’s Christmas and I thought you deserved to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chest tightening, Kurt sucks in a small, unsteady breath, unsure how someone this thoughtful could possibly be real—could possibly be </span>
  <em>
    <span>his, </span>
  </em>
  <span>even if only for the weekend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave of guilt crashes over him because Blaine never really did do anything wrong, but even so, Kurt couldn’t help being hurt. He needed to pull away. He needed to need Blaine less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I had no idea you felt that way. I always thought you had Jeremiah to keep you preoccupied. In my head, you weren’t missing me at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still had a place in my life. No matter what, I will always have room in my heart for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Kurt can stop himself, he’s latching his lips onto Blaines, foolishly letting himself delve deeper into everything Blaine is, and everything that will never fully belong to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His feelings for Blaine are not only reawoken after being dormant for years, but they’re growing exponentially. Fiercer and more intense by the minute, like an avalanche gaining speed as it falls down a mountain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine laughs against his lips. “So, am I sleeping in the guest bedroom, or—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare,” Kurt insists, already dragging Blaine back into his bedroom and soundly shutting the door behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine leans with the motion, trailing after Kurt until they both flop down on the bed that he and Blaine watched countless movie marathons on, exchanged opinions about mutual friends they were too polite to ever say to their faces, and held many study sessions on. And all those days, Kurt wanted—god, he wanted with every fiber of his ever-breaking heart—but never allowed himself to go so far as imagining this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sheets are soft when they land on them, Blaine’s weight heavy and comforting on top of Kurt. Blaine’s lips are rough, slightly chapped from the dry winter air, and the press of Blaine’s fingertips into the dip of his hips as he starts sliding off Kurt’s pants set Kurt’s blood ablaze. Kurt presses his mouth, wet and warm, against Blaine’s pulse, sucking hard and desperate, only pulling away for a moment so they can both shuck off the last of their outer layers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memories surrounding the events of last night are a tad fuzzy in Kurt’s mind. He remembers a flurry of swift motion and hungry, desperate kisses that ended in satisfaction. While the urgency is still there, Kurt can feel a change in the tension between them tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine lays his weight on top of Kurt, cupping his jaw and kissing him, slowly and languidly, solid and sure. He rolls his hips against Kurt’s, and Kurt can’t help the shuddered gasp that escapes his lips. The ache of pure desire still resonates just as strongly in Kurt’s bones as it did last night, but they’re taking their time tonight. It’s almost as if they’ve forgotten this arrangement has an expiration date, as if they have all the time in the world instead of only until the New Year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine deviates from Kurt’s lips and begins a trail of peppered kisses leading from his jaw, down to his chest, all the way down to his hips. “This okay?” Blaine whispers in between lightly mouthing at the insides of Kurt’s thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt gasps at the sudden relocation of blood from his brain to his crotch, and he can’t find the brain power to do anything else except stutter out, “Y-yeah. More than okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all the green light Blaine needs before swiping at the underside of Kurt’s cock with his tongue experimentally, waiting to see his response. Kurt’s head falls back against the pillows with a light thud, and he swears he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>Blaine’s victorious smirk before he takes Kurt in his mouth and begins sucking, bobbing his head up and down the length of Kurt’s dick at a torturously slow pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers slip into Blaine;s loosely gelled hair, as if looking for something to keep him tethered to this plane. It takes a surprising amount of self-control not to just buck up into Blaine’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine starts moving faster and faster, and Kurt’s breath is harder and harder to catch. The slick, wet heat of Blaine’s well-practiced tongue brings Kurt to the brink of finishing much too quickly, and it’s all going to be over embarrassingly soon unless he intervenes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blaine,” Kurt gasps, breathing a series of uneven staccatos. “Blaine, wait, I—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine pulls off of Kurt and looks up at him with expectant and lust-blown eyes that all but beg Kurt to pull him up for another kiss. There’s no focus left in him to give the attention to detail it deserves, all Kurt can think about is getting the words, “I want to be inside you,” out of his mouth, against Blaine’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine moans into Kurt’s mouth, as if just the thought of it brings him closer to release. “God, Kurt. Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine disappears for a moment, scouring their forgotten clothes before popping back up with a small travel sized lube he must’ve brought from his house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, look who was expecting to get laid tonight,” Kurt laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaine moves up and crashes his lips to Kurt’s, effectively silencing him. “Not expecting,” he replies, voice a little hoarse, and Kurt can feel Blaine starting to work himself open between them, sending a spark of heat right to Kurt’s stomach. “Just really, really hoping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Kurt mutters. He winds an arm behind Blaine’s back and flips him onto his back. “I—” he stops himself, having forgotten for a moment that Blaine isn’t his to say I love you to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kurt? Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he lies. “Just checking if you’re ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For you? Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Always. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s the word that replays in Kurt’s mind over and over again as he pushes inside Blaine, the sweet heat surrounding his cock shooting flames of arousal all throughout his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt thought Blaine would always be in his life, no matter what. He never thought Blaine would accidentally burn him so badly he’d need to give himself space to recover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a fine, fine line he and Blaine are walking—one they always have been—and Kurt has a nagging feeling Blaine will leave this ordeal unscathed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always” is sometimes nothing more than a promise you don’t know will be broken yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, steadily, Kurt starts his hips forward and builds up an even rhythm. Blaine is the one who has Kurt’s glass heart in his hand, ready to drop it at a moment’s notice, but Kurt can’t say he doesn’t get a rush of satisfaction watching Blaine come undone beneath him, golden eyes fluttering shut, muscles rippling underneath olive skin as he tries to hold himself together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he picks up the pace, Kurt finds it harder and harder to keep it together himself. Blaine is such a beautiful sight—such a beautiful person, inside and out—and Kurt’s resolve breaks. He surges downward to bring their lips together, feeling like he’ll never have enough of Blaine in his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kurt,” Blaine breathes into the shell of Kurt’s ear. “Close. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I got you, babe.” The pet name slips out before he can stop it. It’s unceremonious and natural—all the more reason it strikes an all too familiar ache in Kurt. But he won’t let himself think about the future. Not tonight. “I got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head buried in the crook of Blaine’s neck as he keeps up the fluid, rolling motion, one hand winds Behind Blaine and tugs him close while the other reaches down between them and wraps Blaine’s cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt does his best to match the pumps of his hand to the increasingly erratic rhythm of his thrusts, but it’s a battle he doesn’t have enough focus to win at the moment. It’s not long before Kurt’s pushed over the edge and comes insides Blaine, continuing to fuck into him until Blaine is spilling between the two of them and each is letting out a muffled cry into the other’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s everything from the night before, except this time Kurt didn’t have the good sense to put up his walls. This is more than physical—everything he has with Blaine seems to transcend that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is love, pure and simple. And out of the two of them, Kurt is the only one in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay there, suspended in silence for a moment, nothing except the sound of their breaths regulating again. Finally, Kurt repositions his hips and slips out of Blaine before falling onto him, utterly exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas,” Blaine mumbles sleepily, sweeping the hair back on Kurt’s sweaty forehead to press a gentle kiss there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt sputters out a laugh as he lets his head fall on Blaine’s chest. He brings their intertwined hands up and returns the casual kiss to Blaine’s knuckles. “Merry Christmas indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Blaine drifts off, Kurt keeps his rested on his chest, letting himself believe for a few lofty moments before sleep that this could be the first of many.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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